Yes, really, you need to know the passwords. There is no way around the paperwork when a spouse dies and you need to change accounts, bills, ownership papers, service agreements, and subscriptions. Some of these will be easier to accomplish than others.
Maybe you have a joint checking account and both names are on the mortgage. But you’re still going to need the passwords to get online and see balances to update things.
For a boomer widow like me, you likely have the utility bills in his name. You need to change them so if you ever have a service issue, you will be able to call for help, and they will be able to speak to you instead of the deceased account owner. It is exhausting to explain your story over and over again to each customer service rep as your work your way through your life’s paperwork.
You should have all the passwords located in a secure place that you and your spouse have access to. You should list all the monthly bills, the website/email addresses and your account numbers. Each of you should understand who pays for what and what to do if that one is ill or passes away.
Knowing the passwords to all of each other’s stuff will make it easier to step in if one of you goes missing. Knowing the passwords means you talked about all the things that make life convenient and comfortable. Knowing the passwords means you trust each other and share the important things.
I am fortunate because I know the passwords. In the most difficult time of my life, I have the key to convenience and comfort. This helps as I work through my fresh grief and begin to walk alone.
I live in Minnesota and it’s no secret the winters are long here. That’s why we have hotdish for dinner and go ice fishing for fun. But there is a chasm between Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day that can wear on the heartiest of Minnesotans. And today, that one is me, and I’m not feeling very hearty.
We’ve had ice, then snow, then ice, and then snow and today it was rain. Tomorrow will be colder and then Wednesday it will snow. The monotony of indoors is getting to me, so I had to get creative and think of something new to do.
I have a craft room and a sewing machine and neither have had much use lately. I wanted to do an easy project that would yield quick results, so I decided to make potholders. Seems easy, sounds fun.
Here’s what I bought: Insul Bright, insulated lining, cotton batting, green thread, shamrock print fabric, green print fabric. I already have the sewing machine, scissors, cutting wheel and fabric iron.
I had to get out the sewing machine book to figure out the settings that would go thru two liners and two fabrics, including rolled up edges. This was not easy, it was not even very fun. But I did finally use all of my project tools and materials that I have assembled during moments of high crafting aspirations and whirlwind shopping adventures.
In the end I did create two potholders. All tolled, the cost of each was a little more than $32.00.
I really hope the snow and rain and slush and ice melt away soon. I am just not sure if I have what it takes to finish my Irish potholders and move on to the Easter Bunny collection.
Ping, keeping it real with Snuggle Puppy and Bumble.
I relearned a lesson in patience and joy today. My teacher was my little dog, Ping. He is five years old. I got him as a puppy to keep my old dog, Olan company while I commuted to work and was gone ten hours daily.
I had been working from home since the covid shutdown in March 2020. So, when she died, I was still home with Ping daily. Then, in 2022, it was time to return to the office. I go in now two days weekly, or whenever it makes sense for me to be there in person.
For the first time, Ping had to face being home alone; without me and without Olan. It really stressed him out, which in turn, stressed me out. I got him a heated Snuggle puppy with a heartbeat and that helps. He is also very attached to his Abominable Snowman, (Bumble) toy. They get him through the day.
When I work from home, we take a one mile walk every day. When I go to the office, we don’t. Now that it is winter in Minnesota, the weather is not always good for walking. I am afraid of falling, and I don’t really like the wind chills below zero.
Today I bundled up and headed out with Ping for our walk. It was four below zero and there was sand and salt on the path. After a block, he just stopped and held his feet up. They hurt, and he could not go on. I picked him up and headed home, grumbling about the cold, about him being needy, about me being so nice to him, but unappreciated.
With snow and blizzard conditions looming for the next several days, I decided to try again. This time, I put on his jacket and four little boots. Then I re-bundled in my boots, hat, scarf, long coat and mittens and headed out. The whole preparation took 10 minutes before we even started, and I expected him to balk at the boots.
Once outside, my little guy burst into a full out gallop. Ignoring the clunky boots and jacket, he began hopping like a rabbit on the same cold, sandy, chemical laden path he could not handle before. The sun was shining, the wind was cold, I was bundled up like a mummy, and just running with my dog.
We can prepare for difficulties to make them easier to withstand. We can take our time, plan for the worst and then take a chance. And when the unexpected happens, we can embrace the joy and just run with it!
I’ve taken a long hiatus from the blog, because I have struggled with the many changes Covid 19 has brought to the world and to my life. Now, the loss of my dear cat, Harri, has pulled me out of my apathy to tell her story.
I have been feeding a local cat colony for many years. Each spring the mommas have kittens. We catch the kittens and find them homes before the mommas carry them off to the wild. Three years ago, a little orange kitten was caught. We fell in love with him right away. He was a rascally ginger, and we named him Harry after another rascally ginger across the pond. He fit into our family with ease, managing to capture the hearts of my husband and I, along with our other cats and dogs. He became our house cat extraordinaire and chief entertainer.
When Harry was old enough, we took him to the vet for his neutering surgery. They called me before the procedure to inform me that Harry was not a male cat, he was a female. She already loved her name, so we kept it. And that is how Harry became Harri.
For three years Harri snuggled, loved, and entertained us. From the beginning of the Covid 19 pandemic quarantine and working from home, she was always in my lap or very close by. She helped me cope with the changes and stresses surrounding the pandemic including the isolation and sometimes boredom of spending my days home alone.
On Christmas Eve 2021, we were excited to have our family over to celebrate as we had missed so many holiday celebrations in 2020. In the excitement and activity of fifteen guests and dinner on the stove, somehow Harri went missing. Our cats are fed by our back door and they often hang out there at mealtime. We think an unsuspecting guest opened the door for a breath of fresh air and she slipped out.
I was not aware that Harri was missing until late in the day and looking back to the last time we had seen her, six or seven hours had gone by. It is very bad for a housecat with no outdoor skills and no acclimation to the weather to be out on a winter day in Minnesota. We looked for her and called but there was no trace of her. The next days were cold, windy, snowy, and below zero. It is hard to imagine she could survive. Nonetheless, I posted her missing information on all the local sites I could think of.
It is now thirty days later and Harri has not been found. I miss her greatly each day. And I have learned, again, that I am not in control. Some things just happen because we don’t expect or prepare for them. Cats will run out the door without considering the consequences. A hostess in the middle of a gathering does not have the cat whereabouts on the top of mind. Cats are animals, and Harri did have a full belly, long fur coat and claws intact when she slipped outside. There is a chance she found a warm place to hunker down or perhaps a kindly person took her in.
People have reacted to my search for Harri with compassion and kindness that I have not experienced in a long time. Folks who might disagree on politics and public health policy are uniting with me to search for Harri. So many are praying for her safe return to me and looking for her with me. There have been four false alarms. Either the cat was spotted and not captured, or the captured cat was a male and not Harri.
I know there is much suffering in the world and many human tragedies that put a missing cat into a different perspective. I don’t know if Harri will ever come home. I hope she does as I truly miss her companionship. If she doesn’t, I will be sad and regretful that I was not more attentive to her on that day. I will also remember how my loss inspired many covid weary and politically suspicious people to put aside their differences and personal hardships to help a heartbroken woman search for her beloved pet. This is humanity.
So hot you can cook an egg on the sidewalk, but no one wants to because it’s too hot to go outside. This is day #8 with a temperature over 90 degrees in Minnesota. Most of those days were on the excessive heat warning advisory because of high temperatures and high humidity. Tonight at 6 pm, the temp is 96 with a ‘feels like’ 99. That’s pretty hot and it looks like we will not go below 90 for another ten days or so.
Two weeks ago I was covering my outdoor plants because of a frost warning and now we are sweltering in weather that we usually don’t see until July and August. Uff-da!
I am still working from home due to the pandemic and have an opportunity to impact my environment during this heat wave. I am aware of the extra energy needed to keep homes and businesses cool, so I want to do my part to limit unnecessary electricity usage. I have closed the blinds and pulled the curtains. This helps keep it cool and gives my air conditioner a break. It’s a little odd sitting in the dark and working, but then nothing has been normal throughout this pandemic, so I can roll with it.
It is hot and humid and we are in a drought. I can see my lawn turning brown. The flowers and plants are wilting. The river level is low. I am very aware of how fortunate I am to have a safe water supply at my fingertips in several rooms in my home. I don’t want to waste it so I am limiting laundry, washing dishes and bathing. We are doing what is necessary, but only washing full loads, and no bubble baths. I am watering the plants outside from the rain barrels around the house.
One of the things I have appreciated while working from home and socially distancing through the pandemic is that I have used my car very little. As a commuter, I normally add 30,000 miles each year to the odometer. This year I added about 5,000. That is less fuel used and less polution created.
I have done less shopping, bought fewer things and taken a closer look at the items in and around my home. I have made do with what I have and kept myself occupied with books, hobbies and crafts. I have spent much more time outdoors enjoying the nature around me.
So, on this hot day, I walked the dog and listened to the river and the birds and the kids playing outside. I sweated and complained and was able to commiserate with other walkers passing by. I made lemonade with fresh, clear, cold water from the tap in my comfortable, air conditioned home. I was able to work and earn a living while enjoying all of these things.
I am very fortunate to live in a wealthy country and to have a middle class lifestyle. I never want to take this for granted. I want to live joyfully and thankfully. This means I need to preserve and protect the natural resources around me so they can be shared with generations to follow.
40 years ago on June 6th, there was a wedding in Cannon Falls. Two kids, too young to be married and too young to know it. In our rural Minnesota town, it was fairly common, especially if there were no plans for college.
I thought my dress was unique, the tuxes one of a kind. Looking back, I see that almost every wedding in 1980-1985 looked the same. Pretty nonetheless.
Here’s me, all 117 pounds of me. I was heavier than all my friends and really wished I had lost weight for the wedding. These days, women are learning to love their bodies, no matter the size.
Still married after 40 years. What is the secret to staying married? Commitment, tolerance, kindness, love. Love is an action, not a feeling. If you’re not doing something, no one is feeling anything. If you want to stay married, stay married. Don’t give up, just do love.
The River Walk has been a repeating theme on my blog. This is because I have been working from home since March 2020 due to the covid 19 pandemic. I have replaced the 45-minute commute to and from work with two walks along the river instead.
The Little Cannon River Falls 12-26-2020
I’m thankful to be working from home. Even so, it’s not easy. I lead a large customer service team with a fast-paced workload and a changing daily volume of work. In order to be successful as a team, I need to be successful as a leader. This takes extra care when working remotely. I have to understand what everyone is doing, how they’re feeling about it and make sure that everything is getting done.  The emotional work is harder when you can’t see each other in person, face to face.
I love my job and I’m good at it. I think it’s because I’ve spent a lifetime caring for and about other people. My greatest talent is generating enthusiasm and cultivating pride of accomplishment.  I lead from behind, and most people don’t even realize my input.  It’s my calling, it’s what I do, I can’t not do this. I love having my team in the spotlight, I love seeing them succeed. And I hate being in the spotlight, though I do want to succeed. It is the fear of judgement that keeps me in the shadows.
I’ve spent my life striving for more; always wanting to do better and be better. I have compared myself to everyone I meet and always find myself wanting. I’m not as smart, not as educated, don’t work for any worthy cause, haven’t suffered enough, haven’t overcome enough, don’t have as much money, not as thin, not as good-looking, don’t have as many friends. These are the thoughts that propel me to work harder, study more, do more, be more. It’s like walking uphill and never reaching the top.
I’ve done many things, but never achieved the expert status I’ve been looking for. There is always someone doing it better. There is always another book, another talk show, another podcast with all the secrets to being best.
The new pace of the pandemic has given me time to slow down and reflect. Looking back, I realize that while striving for something else, I have missed many wonderful things within my reach, like the River Walk.Â
This path has been just outside my door for 27 years and I’ve never appreciated it. People travel from miles away to walk the trails that pass by the meeting of the Big Cannon and the Little Cannon rivers. There is nature and wildlife for miles within steps from my home. Since March, I have discovered the seasons in ways I haven’t seen since childhood. I have been out walking in sunshine and rain, heat and cold, humidity and dry winds. I have seen birds and fish and dogs with their people out enjoying the world without words, without conversation, without judgement. It’s given me time to think about the people and places I have taken for granted and never really appreciated. I wish I could go back in time and do some things over. I would do them better, that’s for sure.
And now the world is changing. As the airlines and internet have brought us closer, the human condition has pushed us apart. We are mortal and subject to disease, illness and death.  For most of us, the reality of this pandemic is the first time we’ve had to face our fragility. In order to keep others safe, we’ve had to give up some freedom. We’re staying home, keeping apart, wearing masks to avoid sharing our breath, and thereby our germs with each other. We’re not used to depending on ourselves for schooling, food, entertainment, and worship. In these most trying times, it is clear that we need each other to survive, even with opposing political views, lifestyles and ideology. The sudden change of routines has left many feeling isolated and vulnerable. Some have fallen to despair and depression.
While I have moments of both, I choose to re-imagine…me. What if I am complete? What if I am enough? What if I stop striving and start living? This thinking has energized me in a way nothing else has. I am giving myself permission to be me. I am going to do the things I want to do in the way I want to do them. I don’t have to consult the experts – I am the expert. If you can do something better than me, good for you. I will cheer you on and applaud your success; that is my calling and it gives me joy.
 But for me, I am going to enjoy myself without words, without conversation, without judgement. I am going to be me in the way only I can. I am going to walk the seasons with the river. There will be sunshine and rain, heat and cold, humidity and dry winds. I will take my place in humanity without apology or arrogance. And it will be enough. And I will let it be.
We live in world with many different religions, holidays and traditions. But I am a boomer and I believe in Christmas. Some of my earliest memories are going through the Sears, JC Penney, and Wards Christmas catalogs and circling the toys I wanted Santa to bring. For weeks, my siblings and I perused the catalogs with no thought or reason given to price or quantity, we just circled what we wanted and hoped for the best.
We had a big family dinner on Christmas Eve, alternating between my Grandmother’s house and her sister’s house. It was fun to see the cousins and have a big dinner. But the main attraction for the kids, were the presents under the tree. One of the grown-up men would ‘play Santa’ and pass out the presents that were from grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Everyone got something and there was lots of laughter and fun. When the last present was opened long into the evening, we all headed home to our own houses to wait for Santa to come overnight.
We didn’t have a fireplace, so our stockings hung from the hall doorway. In the early morning, or the night when we woke up, our stocking would be at the foot of our bed. It was filled with candy, an orange, and peanuts in the shell. Our gift from Santa would be there as well. Sometimes we were sure we had heard or seen Santa in the night. It was always a thrill to go from bed to bed to see what our siblings got and to compare our treats. Later, Grandma and Grandpa would come over to see what Santa brought.
There was church too. Sunday school, programs, choir and worship. I appreciate those memories now as an adult. But the kid in me then, and now remembers the thrill of decorating the Christmas tree and the anticipation of ripping the paper and bows off the packages to see what was inside.
It is no surprise then, that I recreated these traditions with my own children. We had most of the same traditions, just new kids and fewer old ones. They were excited but maybe not as much as my generation. Because my generation did not get presents and parties and new clothes and toys for no reason. We got presents for birthdays and Christmas only. New clothes and shoes for back to school, Christmas and Easter only. We had fewer material possessions and spent more time outdoors. New toys and new clothes were a big deal, not just a passing thrill on payday.
Like many boomers, I carry the excitement of Christmas with me today. I go all in the day after Thanksgiving until after New Year’s Day. I have 22 hours of Christmas music in my library, and I’m always adding to it.
I bought my first Christmas Sweater in the late 1980’s. I went to Donaldson’s in St. Paul and bought 3 matching sweater vests; one for me, and one for each of my daughters. We couldn’t afford them, but I needed them. We were adorable that year in our matching vests and long blonde hair with big bangs. That was the beginning of a long run of Christmas sweaters; so common, I don’t even have pictures of them.
I wish I had known they would come back into fashion in the ugly sweater craze. They’re not ugly to me. I love the sweaters with snowmen, Santas, wreaths, bells, reindeer, trees, cookies, stockings and presents. I have spent the last several years collecting some beauties and have always looked forward to wearing them in the office at Christmas along with my very cheerful holiday jewelry and socks.
Now in 2020, I am working from home, by myself, at my desk in the family room. It’s just me and my furry coworkers at the office. But I still need the excitement of the Christmas season. I still need the lights and music and sweaters and jewelry and socks. So I get dressed each morning, ready for the office in my ugly sweater, jingle bell earrings, ornament pin and Santa socks. And I head downstairs to the office.
I stop along the way to have a cup of coffee with my dear one before he heads out to work; he is an essential worker and still goes to work each day. Then I log in to my computer and get started with my day. I hope to be in the actual office next year where I can show off my Christmas outfits. Until then, there is Zoom. Let me know if you’d like to meet for coffee.
So I have been making many things during the last 7 months that we have been quarantining at home. Other than a few family occasions and some outdoor activities, I spend most of my time at home. It has been fun to work on some old hobbies as well as trying a few new things. In true boomer fashion, the new things I’ve tried have been based on past memories. I have been making beaded ornaments reminiscent of my childhood.
So Shiny and Bright!
There are now so many that I decided they need their very own, old fashioned, tinsel tree. So I bought one online.
Well, everyone knows if you have a tinsel tree and beaded ornaments, you’re going to need a tree skirt. I thought about one that one of my Grandmas made for our tree when I was kid. I wanted to replicate it with some sequins and beads. So I bought some felt and stuff and got started.
I used a skirt I already have to get the round shape and got to work pinning and sewing the rick rack.
Next up was planning the felt appliques. I decided on green trees, red stockings and silver bells.
It was easier than I thought it would be. But as I was sewing on the shapes I thought about the time it was taking. The tree skirt and felt stockings we had as kids were sewn by hand which would have taken much more time. I am thankful for the luxury of the sewing machine and my comfortable craft room to sew it in. Only thing left to do was to embellish the appliques with sequins and beads.
My little helpers.
All the pretty things.
From Grandma Dorothy’s sewing basket-over 50 years old!
I sewed on the sequins, beads and bells by hand in the evenings while watching television. I always had one or more little helper sitting with me in my recliner while I worked. Pictured are my shih-tzu, Ping and my kitty, Remi.
Ta Da! All finished. Watch in December to see this under the tinsel tree decked out in ornaments!
I have been avoiding the blog because I am overwhelmed with the impossible Presidential election that is looming, the direct and indirect consequences of the Corona virus, and the unseasonable snowstorm that landed over 8 inches of powder before the colored, autumn leaves have even blown off our trees. It is hard to think of something meaningful, even motivating to share with an audience when I am feeling all kinds of mixed up emotions. Tonight, I decided I would face my apathy and push it aside with a new post. A great post. A post that would outshine many others. Because that’s what bloggers do.
Alas, the blog was bombarded with SPAM! The kind that gets through the spam filter and disguises as comments waiting the author’s approval. Let’s be clear; I do not approve. I do not like this spam. I am slightly amused, and highly annoyed with the kind of spam that the millennialboomer is attracting.
Am I to believe that what interests Boomers the most are drugs for erectile dysfunction and urinary incontinence? And that Millennials are most interested in buying a paper online? Well, I don’t. I don’t believe it and I don’t allow it. You may not push drugs on my blog and you may not steal my writing to sell to others.
I think what Boomers and Millennials want the most is the same thing that people want at all ages: connection, comfort, community and love. Where’s the Spam for that stuff?
I guess I’ll have to put it out there myself. But it won’t be spam, it will be old fashioned blogging with recipes designed to fill the mind and soul with goodness and love.
